"FEIST, Raymond E - The RiftWar Saga - 1 - Magican" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

large-shouldered, tall, and solidly built. He had dark hair and beard and
the raw, weather-beaten appearance of one who spends most of his time
outdoors. For a few fanciful moments the boy wondered if he might be some
member of an outlaw band, hiding in the heart of the forest. He gave up the
notion, for no outlaw would trouble himself with an obviously penniless
keep boy. Remembering the man had mentioned having a master, Pug suspected
he was a franklin, one who lived on the estate of a landholder.
He would be in the holder's service, but not bound to him as a bondsman.
The franklins were freeborn, giving a share of crop or herd in
exchange for the use of land. He must be freeborn. No bondsman would
be allowed to carry a longbow, for they were much too
Valuable-and dangerous. Still, Pug couldn't remember any landholdings in
the forest. It was a mystery to the boy, but the toll of the day's abuses
was quickly driving away any curiosity.

AFtER WHAT SEEMED to be hours, the man walked into a thicket of trees. Pug
nearly lost him in the darkness, for the sun had set some time before,
taking with it what faint light the storm had allowed. He followed the man
more from the sound of his footfalls and an awareness of his presence than
from sight. Pug sensed he was on a path through the trees, for his
footsteps met no resisting brush or detritus. From where they had been
moments before, the path would be difficult to find in the daylight,
impossible at night, unless it was already known. Soon they entered a
clearing, in the midst of which sat a small stone cottage. Light shone
through a single window, and smoke rose from the chimney. They crossed the
clearing, and Pug wondered at the storm's relative mildness in this one
spot in the forest. Once before the door, the man stood to one side and
said, "You go in, boy. I must dress the pig." Nodding dumbly, Pug pushed
open the wooden door and stepped in. "Close that door, boy. You'll give me
a chill and cause me my death.' Pug jumped to obey, slamming the door
harder than he intended.

He turned, taking in the scene before him. The interior of the cottage was
a small single room. Against one wall was the fireplace, with a good- size
hearth before it. A bright, cheery fire burned, casting a warm glow. Next
to the fireplace a table sat, behind which a heavyset, yellow-robed figure
rested on a bench. His grey hair and beard nearly covered his entire head,
except for a pair of vivid blue eyes that twinkled in the firelight. A long
pipe emerged from the beard, producing heroic clouds of pale smoke
Pug knew the man. "Master Kulgan . . . was the Duke's
magician and adviser, a familiar face around the castle keep. Kulgan
leveled a gaze at Pug, then said in a deep voice, given to rich rolling
sounds and powerful tones,
"So you know me, then?"
"Yes, sir. From the castle."
"What is your name, boy from the keep?"
"Pug, Master Kulgan."
"Now I remember you." The magician absently waved his
hand.
"Do not call me 'Master,' Pug-though I am rightly called a master of my